Moments
by ifshepromisedyouheaven
Summary: Brief snapshots of Santana and Brittany's life together.
1. Chapter 1

I helped you paint your face, one half red, one yellow. I kissed you quickly, right on the apple of your cheek. You scrunched your nose, that cute smile that says _don't ever stop kissing me_. The hard acrylic paint cracked and left ragged lines down your face. Still as beautiful as ever, years after high school, years after college, months after the birth of our son. Don't worry; I won't ever stop kissing you. Promise me the same?

I wouldn't let you paint our boy's face; he can barely stand the wet heat of our kisses. But you put cute little lines under his eyes and snapped the buttons of his jersey. Number 12, just like his mama. I love seeing you this passionate, even about soccer. Your eyes sparkle, your hair glows, your nails tap, tap against the small swell of your stomach. Anticipation and excitement look beautiful on you.

"Ready?" you ask me, patting your pockets. "I got the tickets."

You've got one hand under Hayden's butt, as he rests on you hip, supporting him like you do me. I smiled at you and nodded. Opening the door, I followed you out, putting a kiss on the back of your neck, where course wisps of hair swirl and tickle.

"I'm so excited," you breathe, buckling the straps of Hayden's car seat.

"Me too," I say. Most to see you giggle in excitement, rush to the stadium in euphoria, bounce Hayden on your hip in bated anticipation.

We find our seats, and I pull Hayden onto my lap as you pull your flag out.

"Go Spain!" you cry, cutting the air with your flag. You lean forward and scan the field, despite the fact there is still half an hour until the game starts. I put a soft kiss on Hayden's head, where wisps of raven hair are growing. He reminds me so much of you Santana: strong cheeks, smile worth a million dollars. He is strong and brave like you. Curious and kind like me. The best parts of both us, the product of our love, our boy. I can see you painted up and waving a flag at his baseball games or dance recitals. His proud mommas.

Hayden falls asleep halfway through, despite the loud cheers of his mama. You amaze me with your passion, Santana.

I still don't know the difference between a touchdown and a homerun, but you try to teach me. Here at the stadium you point your finger, _off sides_, _penalty kicks_, _striker_. I love when you share your unbridled joy with me, _shoot out_, _crossbar_, _foul_. I listen, intent on learning, if only to see you smile at me when I get the rules right.

Hayden awakes when you scream_** goal**_. You turn and look at me sheepishly, before I laugh and hand you our son. You stand him up on your legs, clapping his hands, baby talking. _Hayden wants Spain to win too. Don't you, my chicken. Go Spain! _You nuzzle into his neck, and I know you smell the soft skin and baby shampoo that I always smell there. You are my family, Santana. You and Hayden.

When we arrive home and Hayden is fast asleep, you still have so much energy jumping around inside you. You kiss me hard, overjoyed at Spain's win and our adventure. I can feel the want you have for me, in the force of your lips, like you are trying to leave their mark. How I wish I could always feel your lips on mine. The soft force of your desire coils my stomach tight, tingles my legs, spreads heat over my body.

When you move inside me, I clench. I want to keep you there, forever, there in the deepest part of me. We move together and I will my body to become part of yours. Here when we are entangled and connected, we are truly us. Brittany and Santana, one, in the truest sense of the word.

_Britt, baby. _My name on your lips, the only lips I ever want to say my name. I'm over the edge, falling and weightless. Full and inundated with you and with us.


	2. Chapter 2

Remember that day you took me to the old cinema, you know the one with the ticket stand right out front. I was always so excited to hold your hand as I walked up, imagining we were the characters of a classic romantic exploit. The likes of Casablanca and His Girl Friday, that's how big our love is Santana.

This day still lingers with me, years later. I remember little things and big things. The sense of warm contentment, fizzing up in me like a glass of champagne. The tiny scrape on your hand. You are so concentrated, Santana, that you don't even notice when you bump the edge of your desk or stub your toe. I need you to take of yourself. For me. For Hayden. I am so tethered to you, Santana that I couldn't live without you.

You just came from work, your button down tucked into your skirt. You always look so beautiful in your suits. Elegant and classy, sexy. I imagine you at work, flipping through budget reports and status updates, biting on your lip in thought. Exotic and breathtaking. You took my hand and squeezed it three times. Our own, silent I. Love. You. I love you, too.

I've always loved this theater with the red, velvet curtains and the gold trimmed seats. I feel so in awe here, captivated by the old time ambiance and the black and white films. I bumped your hand with mine when we went for the popcorn. You always insist on the largest size, extra butter. You pop a few pieces in your mouth while the commercials play and the rests sits idly by our feet.

The black and white image begins to play and opening credits roll, but they are words we can't understand: _metteur, d'un film, voici, bonsoir. _You turned to me with a look of disappointment, the one I hate so much. I wish you would understand that you have never been a disappointment.

"It's okay," I assured you.

"We can't understand it, Britt." All the more beautiful it was in my mind, kind of like you. I was always so frustrated with the push and pull game you used to play. Couldn't you see I was hurting? I couldn't figure you out and I wanted to so bad. I wanted you so bad. It was only when I had you that I realized how much I loved the mystery enveloping you. It meant I never knew what Santana I was going to get: playful Santana, sweet Santana, vulnerable Santana (the most beautiful). It means I can learn something new about you every day. It means I am forever in awe of you.

I let the silky smooth mystery of the French film lull me. I rested my head on your shoulders and breathed in deeply. We watched as the characters danced and fought, kissed and laughed. You leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

I think about all the movies we have seen.

When we watch comedies your laughter radiates through the house. I never want to stop hearing you laugh, melodious and carefree. So as I watch you sleep beside me, I search the internet for jokes. When you wake up: _What do you call a bear with no teeth?_ When I kiss you goodbye for work: _What did the fish say when he swam into the wall? _You laugh extra hard at that one and give me an extra peck.

When we watch dramas, I want to hold you extra close. Closer than possible. I pull your hips into mine, your hand into mine, your heart into mine.

When we watch those sweet romances, I want to kiss you until the morning sun warms the sheets wrapped around us. The kisses that linger and deepen and dance, bruising our lips, rendering them raw and fulfilled.

But while I sit here and listen to the_ j'taime_'s and the _fermez la bouche_ 's of the movie, I am thinking of all the things we have accomplished. And Santana, we have done so much. We have fought so hard and I think we have won. I have you beside me every morning and every night. What more could I want? Subtitles?


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. **

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Hayden looked so comfortable snuggled to your chest, his legs kicking, drooling in happy gurgles. I'd be happy to if I could listen to the bump, bump of your heartbeat, steady and strong like you. You nuzzled the soft skin of his neck and tickled his toes with the soft pads of your thumbs. _My happy baby_, you cooed. _My big, beautiful boy_. _Mama loves you, forever and forever. _

We are taking Hayden apple picking today. It's your favorite time of year, the leaves yellow and red as they float from the sky, the light breeze, the smell of grass and Earth. You take us apple picking and hiking, to hay rides and fairs, never wanting to miss just a second of fall. Yesterday you bundled Hayden up to go outside; he must have been 100 degrees in all his sweaters and mittens.

"Baby," I laughed as I pulled the hat from his head. You pouted, beautiful lips begging to be kissed.

"He'll be cold," you insisted, reaching for the hat in my hand. I relented and moved closer to place tender kisses on your lips, your neck, your chin. I loved your full devotion to the needs of Hayden. I knew you'd be a great mother. I knew it from your gentleness and courage. From your kindness and your compassion. I knew it because I am certain I have never met another person with a heart as big as yours.

You look at me sometimes while you are holding Hayden, as if you're lost or scared. You want me to hold him, you're terrified you are going to hurt him. I wish you knew just how much you were giving Hayden, so much of yourself. And I know that Hayden is so safe with you, safer than anywhere else. Just how I know that in your arms I'll never be safer. Hayden knows it too.

"He wouldn't be cold in the Arctic," I teased, a light slap to your butt as I grabbed the camera and followed you outside. You spent the whole morning raking a pile of leaves, red and yellow and orange, dark purple even.

_Look Hayden. Look baby. _You put him gently in the pile of leaves, as if he were an egg you were desperate not to crack. He didn't do much but look up at you expectantly. I snapped a picture, his eyes wide, waiting for his Mama to tell him what to do. You picked a few leaves up and sprinkled them, tickling Hayden under his chin. He giggled and drooled, kicked his legs and ruffled up more leaves.

You stood up and wrapped your arm around my waist, pulling me into you where we could watch our baby boy together.

"He's amazing," you hummed, "Thanks for bringing him here." I kissed your neck, the soft spot where it smells only of Santana, and I can feel the little flutter of your pulse.

"You're the only one I'd ever want a family with."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the love and support. And mostly importantly for reading.

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Sometimes when you graze my hip with your soft fingers, or when your warm, pleading eyes beg me to take control, or when you bottom lip trembles with a dangerous combination of lust and fear, it brings me back to the first time we made love.

Sure, we had been having sex for years, but when it was over and the spell of want and desire was broken, you shifted your eyes to the floor and pulled your clothes back on heedlessly. You were scared, Santana. You were scared each time you quickly thrust your hand in my pants, or when you were too consumed to even look me in the eyes. You were scared each time you murmured _sleep tight, B_, shut the door to my room and raced home in panic. I understand that and I know that I was scared too.

I started pulling you into the crook of my hips after you had come undone. I wanted to hold you, and feel your heart flutter as you put yourself back together again. I wanted one more minute, two more, three more. I wanted to curl into you and feel our love settle over us. But you made excuses to untangle yourself from me as soon as your breath settled. _Got homework, dinner with dad, don't want to miss American Idol._

Just like you untangled your arms from mine, you were untangling your heart from mine, or at least trying. Santana, I knew I could never untangle my heart from yours. They are forever connected in more than a million ways. They become more entangled each time you put your hand on my lower back, each time you look at me with a coy grin, each time you kiss my shoulder in reverence, each time you show me a new part of yourself. I was just waiting for you to discover this.

The night we first made love you came to me in triumphant joy.

"I got in Britt. Boston University, can you believe it?" You held the letter out to me, as if I had to see it to believe it. But I believed it, I knew it. I was so, so proud of you. I hugged you as tight as I could, reluctant to let go because that meant I might have to let you go to school all the way across the country, without me. Finally, I let you go with a sad smile.

"I'm going to miss you." I told you this in direct violation of the rules, the unstable world we built for ourselves where there were no feelings, no emotions. Instead of recoiling, like I thought you would, you pulled me into you again.

"Me too, Britt," You said into my shoulder. You pulled away and looked into my eyes for a few moments. I don't know what you saw there, but I'm certain my eyes portrayed fear. My deepest fear was coming to fruition: you were leaving. I was losing you and I didn't know how to stop it. I couldn't ask you stay. As it turns out I didn't need to.

You reached for my hand, "I want you with me, Britt."

_Yeah,_ I let out in a shaky breath. I'm surprised you heard me, but you did. I saw your head shake once and your eyes dart to the side. I knew that look; you were scared I didn't want to. How could you ever think that?

I took your lips in mine in a kiss that I hoped showed you all the things I wanted to say. _I love you, Santana. I'd go anywhere with you, Santana. You don't have to be scared, Santana. _

You kissed me back and I know you were saying the same things to me. I could feel the smooth velvet of your lips and your tongue as they chased away insecurities and fears. I pulled you to the bed where you let me rest on top of you. I knew you were giving me all of yourself when you let me slowly undress you, relishing in the lines and curves, soft and firm, of your body. There was no frantic search for release, no nameless faces racing to the climax, just me and you and our love.

You let me stay on top, something you have never done before. You let me see you soft and surrendered as your hair tangled and your skin glistened with sweat. You let me see your eyes shut in rapture as I sucked at your breasts. I could feel your heart beating against your chest, as if it wanted to burst out and fill up the space of my bedroom. I leaned down and kissed the spot on your chest where I could hear it. I kissed it again and one more time for good measure. I wanted you to know it was safe with me, that I would always protect your heart.

You pulled at my hands, bringing my face to you neck where I licked, and sucked, kissed and nipped.

"Brittany," you pleaded, breathless and desperate. I hummed into your neck and looked into your eyes. They were so fragile and caring, vulnerable and strong. "You know this is different right," you asked.

I know Santana.

When I finally entered you, I felt your back arch in excruciating ecstasy. Isn't it so funny that those can be swirled together in a mix so that you don't know if you are in pain or pleasure? You don't know if you want to stop or keep going?

I found a rhythm and you grunted every time my hand thrust into you where you are the softest and strongest, somewhere so deep inside you that I am the only who can feel it. You sighed and moaned, twisting your body and I could feel the tension pool between my legs as I watched your taut nipples rise and fall with each breath, your stomach, rolling with each wave of pleasure.

_Brittany, _you repeated as you were slowly overtaken by the waves that seemed to crash over you, pulling your mouth open in a wide o._ Brittany_, you let slip between trembling lips, _Brittany, Brittany_.

You wanted me to hold you. You didn't want to fall.

I took your hand and interlaced our fingers and I used my other hand to rock into you. Slow and gentle and deep. You came with a final thrust, your eyes open and searching for mine. When you found them, there reassuring you, you let your eyes roll back and your throat open, releasing a guttural sound erupting from your stomach.

I felt your stomach clench, I couldn't move my fingers inside you, your toes were so tight I couldn't uncurl them if I tried. I kissed you on the forehead, on the nose, on the chin, on the neck. I held you as you gained your breath back and when I rested my head on your chest and fell asleep you were there when I woke up.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for reading. I appreciate your reviews and your support.

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When you're scared, truly scared, your bottom lip trembles. A deep tremble, as if all the fear in your body has accumulated in your mouth and is about to rupture right up through your throat. Your eyes become as big as full moons, brimmed with tears, searching for answers and reassurances. Oh how I wish I could give those to you, Santana. Sometimes I can assuage you with a deep kiss and a nod of my head. But still sometimes, despite how hard I hold you, I can't soak up your fear like I want to. Just the same way you couldn't soak up Hayden's hurt as you cradled him closer and closer to you. So close that I knew you wanted to envelop him, to protect him, to absorb his cries.

It was just a cold, or so the doctor said. But I was so worried and you were too. Hayden's shrieking wails flooded the house and made the panic bubble in our stomachs and rise, threatening to come out. The salty tear tracks down his cheeks and his pinched, maroon face made you shake. I put my hand on your back, just under your night shirt, a touch meant to convince you everything would be okay. It didn't work.

_Britt, _you whispered to me, shaky and full of concern. _He's so hot. _I peeled off his pajamas, the cute ones with the giraffes that you put on Hayden whenever you want to remember the day we took him to the zoo. You held him as if he just might evaporate or float into the sky. I knew you wanted to hold him and I granted you that small semblance of control. You wanted him to know you would always protect him but mostly I think you were trying to convince yourself. He kicked his legs exasperatedly, and his sweaty skin clung to you as you rocked him gently.

When Hayden wouldn't stop crying you took him into the bathroom where the steam rose and swirled, fogging the mirror. He sputtered and coughed as he tried to breathe through his cries._ I have you, Hayden. You're okay. _You hushed and cooed, soothed and lulled, yet Hayden wouldn't stop his heart- wrenching wails.

"What if I can't help him, Britt?"

You looked so small and shattered that I knew this wasn't just about Hayden's bug. I knew that I would be picking up the pieces of you and holding them together for the rest of the night.

It's is so hard for me to comprehend the depth to which I love you and Hayden. I can feel it in my heart and my fingers and my toes and my stomach, but I can't touch it. I wish I could see the love, grasp it as if it were as tangible as a stone. Without that stone we can't ever be guaranteed our love will be enough, and that scares me most of all.

When I saw your eyes and the way your finger brushed at the corner of Hayden's hair, I knew you wanted me to tell you our love was enough. I wanted too, Santana. Oh, I wanted to, but how could I tell you that I didn't know?

Instead I sat down at the foot of the tub and took your hand. It was warm in mine, soft and firm. I told you only what I knew.

"I've never seen you give more of yourself to anyone. It has to be enough. It is for me and it is for Hayden."


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I am always open to suggestions!

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It was hours past Hayden's bed time but he looked so happy, his eyes roaming the fairground, his little fingers curling and uncurling in excitement. I could tell you were happy too and proud, so proud as you pushed Hayden's stroller through the throng of fair goers. You grinned at the people who turned to you with a _how adorable _or a _so handsome_. You lifted him to your hip and kissed him on the cheek. I love seeing you this proud, you deserve it.

I felt so good here at the carnival with you, sated. It is as if I ate a crisp apple pie and the cinnamon is radiating through my body, filling me with content and warmth. The leaves crinkle beneath our feet and you pick one up and hand it to Hayden. _Leaf_, you coo, and our boy, so curious, pops it in his mouth. His rosy pink lips open in a circle when he feels the papery texture and he lets the leaf slip from his mouth.

"Guess he doesn't like it," you murmured, with a quick laugh and a raise of your eyebrows.

"We'll have to find a new vegetable for dinner," I joke and squeeze your hip as we move for the cotton candy, a much more desirable treat.

It amazes me how much you love cotton candy, spun sugar so sweet that even before it melts in your mouth you feel the urge to cough. My _tough_ Santana, my _eat your vegetables_ Santana, my_ just five more minutes of work _Santana. You are a child again, a beautiful, carefree, unhindered child skipping to the vender, licking pink sugar off your fingers.

You kiss me and your lips stick to mine, transferring sickly sweet grains of sugar. You taste so beautiful, like joy and saccharine syrup and Santana. You lick the pink sugar from my lips and mumble an apology, but I only want to kiss you again. I want to kiss you until the flavor of cotton candy is replaced by the taste of me. I want to kiss you until you are so full of sugar and spice and everything nice that you won't need another bite of your treat.

But Hayden's anxious and we're surrounded by people, so I wink at you. A wink that says "I want more," and "I'll never have enough."

You throw the paper cone in the garbage and nuzzle Hayden's neck. I know where you want to go next: the Ferris wheel and then maybe to see all the pumpkins. You want to let Hayden pet the goats and pick some apples. You want everything for our boy.

I take a million pictures, snapshots to remember this day. You and Hayden in a patch of pumpkins, beautiful and glowing, lips pink with sugar. I pick out a pumpkin and we'll put it on the steps to our porch. Come Halloween we'll throw on our witch's hats and take our little pumpkin outside and we'll sit on the steps. We'll give all the wizards and the goblins Kit-Kats and we'll point out the costumes we like.

Hayden will be fast asleep against your shoulder, drool unnoticed on your sweater, but you will still murmur.

You'll say: "Want to be a pirate when you are big and strong?"

You'll say: "How about a King? You're my little prince, aren't you?"

You'll say: "How about a lion? A firefighter?"

I am going to love making new costumes each year, with you, helping our boy be a lion and a pirate and a firefighter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for your support!**

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Don't get me wrong, I love the times when you love me sweetly, tenderly. I love when you grab at my hand and rock into me with a syrup slow rhythm, when you take the time to kiss me at the crook of my elbow, at the base of my throat, at the jut of my hip.

But, Santana, when you need me with desperation and with force, I can't control the fever that spreads over me or the want I feel deep in my stomach and between my legs.

Take me, I plead. Have me.

When we can't make it to the bedroom, when your kisses are hot and greedy, fast and urgent, when you thrust your hand against my center, I tremble for you.

I want you, I want you, I want you, you chant as you hold my body against the wall. You bite at my skin, nip it and knead it. You don't care that your hair is wild and that you are panting. You are so beautiful.

You were wild and beautiful that day at the kissing rock. All the kids went there to hang out, to escape their parents like you were doing. Pushing aside bushes and trees, you pushed me onto the flat rock, your eyes narrowing and finding me as if I were your prey. You wanted me like I've never seen before. It excited me. It scared me. You saw it in my face and you were afraid that you hurt me. Your eyes filled with tears.

But when I pulled you down on top of me, kissing you hardly, bruising my favorite lips, your fervor renewed. You were running away from your stifling household. You were allowing yourself to love me, fiercely and completely, without abandon, something we could never do at home.

I didn't care that the juts of the rock left their marks on my back, I cared that your hands were racing furiously over my skin, frantic. You clutched at me and shifted your thigh between my legs and I heard a guttural grunt emanate from me. I heard my name on your lips, too.

I'm yours, Santana. Make me yours.

There was no time to take my clothes off. You wanted me and I wanted to give you me. You shoved your hand to the warmest part of me, coating your fingers. My body vibrated with need for you, Santana. You were quick and deep and I was climbing quickly, on the verge of spinning. I sat up, and reached for you, drawing me to you as your arm worked to bring me closer and closer. I saw the muscles and your glistening tan skin clench and unclench with your fingers as I felt them inside me.

I kissed at your upper lip, capturing it, drawing it out. You let out a haggard breath and I kissed you hard, again.

I didn't want to take my eyes off of you, but you felt so good. I wanted to watch you, your eyes were closed tight and your brows furrowed. Your head fell back in pleasure, as if you were the one whose orgasm was impending.

Your lips parted and you let out shallow breaths and I felt your pace quicken. I could feel you, so deep. You pushed into me hard and I could feel my body shake and shiver. I couldn't keep in the curses as the coil in my stomach was reaching a snapping point. Oh, Santana, what you do to me.

One final curl of your fingers and the coil of want and need snapped, swallowing me. I felt myself pulsing against your fingers, I felt myself in excruciating ecstasy, I felt myself unable to breath.

Baby, you always whisper after I come. Baby, you say, placing soft kisses at my throat, just under my chin, under my jaw, under my ear. Baby, you murmur.

I opened my eyes to find yours and can't help the swell of emotion I feel at having you. I love you.

Please, Santana, always and forever, want me the way you wanted me at the kissing rock.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for reading! Don't be afraid to tell me what you like and what you don't!**

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It was the perfect kind of day for a baseball game, blue skies and endless clouds. This was Hayden's first year playing baseball. Our boy is so big, baby. Remember yesterday when he was trying so hard to speak, contorting his mouth and grunting out sounds.

"No, I swear," you'd say, laughing. "I think he was saying the chemical equation for cellular respiration."

Now he's eight and a big brother, a math all-star and the sweetest friend. We did such a good job, Santana. I love watching you with him. I couldn't picture a better mother. Just last night, I watched you in the yard, practicing with him. You had to have thrown the ball to him a million times and each time he missed you gave him a great big high five. You'd say 'that had great power, Hay' or 'your stance is getting better and better'.

Alia is getting so big too, almost five. Can you believe it? Remember when we brought her home? All fists and fury, so much black hair on her tiny head, screaming out at all hours of the night. Hayden used to ask us where her quiet button was. We're still looking for that. Even now sitting at the game, squished between us, she's humming the newest song she learned at daycare.

Alia hopped into your lap so she was facing you, placing small and sticky hands on your shoulders. You kissed her full cheek and turned back to the game. But you forget, San, Alia wants your attention, always.

"Mama! Did you know a snake can eat a mouse?" Alia is always telling us animal facts, only sometimes accurate.

You looked at her and opened your eyes wide to show your surprise. She nodded her head, her eyes just like yours, big and warm, chocolate and honey. Alia loved to sit at the big computer chair and one finger at a time type the letters of an animal into the search bar. _Mommy, how do you spell goldfish? Mama, how do you spell zebra?_

She always looks so serious, searching the keyboard for the A or the H or the Z. I can see her twenty years from now, leaning over the computer, her glasses hanging out of her mouth, eyes pinched, fingers tapping on the cherry wood, just like you. Alia, my little Santana.

"Mama, how does the mouse fit?" she asked.

"I don't know, pretty girl," you said, running your fingers through her dark curls, turning your eyes back to the game. She grabbed you again, urging you to look at her.

"Mama. You ever see a Zebra?"

"It's very pretty," you told her as you nodded.

"How pretty?" she asked, eyes filled with wonder, as she pulled on her ponytail (always dislodged within minutes of it going up).

"Almost as pretty as you and Mommy," you said with a wink, putting your hand on the small of my back, your fingers pushing just under the hem of my shirt. I kissed you on the cheek a promise that you would be rewarded for your kind words.

You still get to me Santana, with your words and with your touches, with the faintest blush that covers your tan cheeks, with the line of your jaw begging to be kissed, with your mind and your kindness, with your passion and your strength. I still want to throw you on the bed and I still want to make love so sweet and tenderly that you can feel how much I need you. I still want to hold your hand and hear about your workday, listen to you complain about the traffic and how much you missed Hayden and Alia. I still get lost staring at you, so lost I almost missed Hayden's first hit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Just a little teaser for being so patient! I will post a new chapter by the end of the weekend! Thanks for reading!**

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Sometimes my love for you strikes me, suddenly and strongly and I'm overwhelmed with it. Like a wave, I can't really see it until it has washed over me, and then, I don't know how I ever overlooked it. Oh, Santana, I wish I could convey how much I love you. I wish I could wrap it up with a bow and present it to you with a tag: Santana – here for you, is the whole of my love. Instead I have to convince you.

Last week when I heard the soft patter of your feet on the warm wood floors as you chase Alia and Hayden around the dining room table, I just had to pull you into me and kiss you.

"Mom," Alia let out in an exasperated sigh when she noticed you were no longer tailing her. "Ewww."

I heard you let out a little laugh against my lips as you tickled my side. _Ewww_, you repeated into my neck as you nipped lightly, squeezing my hips, before turning around with a grin at our little toddler.

_Ewww_, _Ewww_, _Ewww_, you repeated as you scooped up Alia placing quick and sloppy kisses at her chubby cheeks, and her cute nose, her thick eyelashes. When she squirmed out of your grip and ran to the safety of her princess bedroom, you returned to my arms. Oh, we are so lucky to have you, Santana. I collapsed into you as I told you this. Do you remember? Did you feel it? Did you feel how truly lucky I feel to have you as a partner?

Or when you return from work, so sexy in your sleek skirts. Do you know that when I push you against the kitchen counter and slip my hand under your waistband that I mean to show you just how much I need you? Once you moaned and put your lips right to the shell of my ear: _Dial 1-800 for a naughty librarian_, you husked. I want you, forever. You know that right?


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for all the reviews! One mentioned potentially have chapters written from Santana's point of view. Is that something you would be interested in? Also, I am looking for a beta-reader, if anybody is interested!**

**Enjoy!  
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"Help me, baby," you called from your precarious perch on the top of our dining room table and I just had to laugh at you. It's Hayden's first birthday party and you have gone absolutely crazy. He doesn't even know what is going on, Santana.

"I can't get these damn streamers up," you mumbled throwing the roll to the ground, resulting in the unraveling of the whole thing. Oh, baby. I pulled you into me, holding you tight, tighter, not tight enough. You know he is more interested in the fact that he has ten fingers, right?

_I just want it to be perfect_, you cooed into my neck, placing wet kisses there, resting against me. I love it when you just relax into me, trusting me to support you. It feels so good, knowing I can take care of you. _It will be_, I assured you, placing feather light kisses at your hairline.

We used to be so scared about what kind of parents we would make, if we could give our children all that they needed, if we would be enough. I can't believe I ever doubted any of that. Watching you spend hours decorating the house, baking the perfect cake, fretting over the most trivial details, Hayden couldn't be any luckier.

I was pulled out of my reverie by the doorbell. Still snuggled against me you looked so beautiful, relaxed, your mouth loose and smiling. I wanted to take you right there but it was probably your mother at the door, ready to start the party. So, instead I placed a tender kiss on your lips, pulling on your bottom lip before heading to the door.

People started arriving, each one scooping Hayden up, inevitably remarking on just how beautiful he is, which is pretty beautiful. Each time our baby was passed to a different set of hands, I could see the corners of your eyes pinch up, my protective momma bear. I went to stand next to you, wrapping my arm around your waist.

"We made a pretty cute one, huh?" I asked you. You paused for a moment before turning to me, a bright and blinding smile across your face. _Yeah_, you nodded and kissed my cheek. I could see that you wanted to say something so I squeezed your waist and put my head on your shoulder.

"What's up, San?" I asked. You kissed my cheek one more time and I knew it was important. Your eyes were still bright, though. Your cheeks were still tinged with the light pink of happiness and you still wore a loose smile. I wasn't too worried.

"Can we make another one?" you asked. We always kept in mind the thought of having more, but the question still surprised me. You were still looking out at the party but I can always tell when your brain is focused on something else, your hands are too still, your chin too tight and rigid.

I started thinking about the logistics, but then suddenly a little seed of want grew weightier in the pit of my stomach. I started picturing the swell of your stomach as it grows with our child, family picnics and another little Santana running around and hooking more hearts.

"Yes," I said, looking at you. You turned to look at me, your chocolate eyes glassy with tears.

"Yes," I said again, "I would love that." I saw relief wash over you immediately, like a drug. You let out a big sigh, gave me a look, one I've grown to cherish, the one that says: you have made me happier than anything ever has, and then turned back to look at Hayden. And while our family and friends enjoyed the party, you and I were picturing our new family.


	11. Chapter 11

**Another one! I liked the idea of writing from Santana's view. So, I started and couldn't stop! Thanks for the idea, Stephanie! I always love hearing from you guys! **

**(Also, I added name and date at the top so that the time and narrator shifts would be easier to navigate.)  
**

******Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Santana (August 2022) -

* * *

Remember that last trip before Hayden was born? Britt, you were eight months pregnant and insisting on a camping trip. I was so worried about you and our baby. But as always, I can never say no to you. So, I packed four pillows for you (just in case), ten sweaters to keep you warm, and everything I could find in the first aid aisle at the supermarket.

You laughed and gave me a big kiss when you saw how jam packed our car was. _Baby_, you cooed, _it's camping_. I must have rolled my eyes, because you kissed me again, slow and deep. I just want to protect you, from everything. I still get a little flutter in my stomach when you kiss me. You stir up all the butterflies, Britt. It's like you are electric. We're electric.

_Come on, baby!_ You said, patting me on the butt and jumping into the car. You were so happy, your eyes were shining, your hair was shining, your smile was shining, your skin was shining. I love to see you this excited. More importantly, I love when I am the cause.

When we pulled up to the campground, you jumped out of the car, so sexy in your hiking boots. Despite you big and beautiful stomach, you pulled out the giant tent and got right to work. I asked if you need help but you but you shook your head and laughed. I'm not that bad, right? Sometimes I forget how in control you are, how strong and smart and how much I depend on it. You are my rock, baby. Don't ever forget that, okay.

With the tent finally set up and the car unpacked, you were bouncing around with an abundance of energy. You grabbed my hand, laced our fingers and ran towards the lake. I wrapped you up, your stomach resting against me so I could feel the flicks and flutters of our little baby. We looked at the sparkling water for a little while before you turned to me with a little (kind of evil) glint in your eye. And before I knew it, you were out of your shorts and working on your shirt.

"Britt, baby, what are you doing?" I asked with a little, nervous, giggle, my eyes wandering over your toned legs. You answered with a little tug on my shirt.

_Come on_. _Take it off_, you said, pulling my shirt over my head.

"Britt, what are you doing?" I asked as you continued to remove my clothes. I looked over my shoulder to see if there was anybody around and there wasn't. So, I helped you pull off my shorts and throw them to the dirt. I followed you into the water, giggly with nervous excitement. I've never done this before.

You pulled me into you, for what I thought was a kiss. But instead, you put your weight against my naked shoulders and pushed me under. _Britt_! I popped up with a loud laugh and happy smile. You hooked your legs around my waist and let me and the water support you. Then you leaned in for a hot and greedy, wet kiss. I couldn't help the moan that fell from my lips and right into yours. A tingle shot through my body, up my toes, and through my arms into the warm water. I wanted you. I could tell you wanted me too, you were rocking lightly against me and letting out little rushed and raspy gasps.

The water around us was glittering and lightly splashing with our movements. You were so forceful and I loved it, pushing your body into mine, attacking my neck with big kisses, groaning my name. You ran your hands down my body, stopping to grasp at my hips, and my breasts, my wrists, and my butt.

Oh, I want you so bad, Britt. Your ankles locked around my back gave me perfect access and I ran my hand down your smooth, creamy skin, feeling myself being worked up by your needy touches. When you finally entered me, I gasped and buckled with the weight of my want and need, the weight of the pleasure that enveloped me, clouding my mind.

Oh, you were so beautiful, glistening with sweat and beads of lake water. Your lips opened slightly, letting out little gasps, eyes narrowed as you looked at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world.

Sometimes all this magic makes me forget that when we left the water and fell asleep naked and curled into each other amongst the pillows, that we woke up to a bear.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks for reading, and sorry for the wait! I hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas! I love to hear what you think!**

* * *

Santana (2027)

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I know what the other mom's at Hayden's school think. And I know what the mailman and my colleagues think: cool, calm, and collected Santana. Doesn't sweat. Doesn't wince. Won't crack. You're the only one that has ever been able to tell when I need an extra hug or a reassuring kiss. When my hands are sweaty and my fists a little too clenched, you always know how to calm me.

I was such a mess on Alia's first day of preschool. Do you remember? I changed my outfit four different times and still couldn't decide when you came into our bedroom. You caught my eyes in the mirror, wrapped your arms around me, and placed a small kiss on my shoulder. I could still feel the warmth of your lips, despite the sweater I was contemplating. Your kisses give me so much comfort. I wish I could carry them around and pull them out whenever I need them, like candy or cigarettes. You could be my vice, Britt.

"You look beautiful, baby," you whispered, a soft nip at my neck, and a little giggle as you ran your hands down my sweater, smoothing the wrinkles. But, I still wasn't convinced and you released me so that I could try on another outfit.

"How about this one?" I looked over at you as I pulled a dress over my head. You were sitting on the bed with Alia between your legs, as you combed through her unruly hair. You pulled her curls into a ponytail.

"Your mama is so beautiful," you playfully whispered to her, patting her on the bottom and instructing her to find her shoes.

"What is this about, San?" you asked, taking my hand and playing with my fingers. I didn't really have the words to adequately explain to you why this was so important, so I just shrugged.

"I just want everything to go smoothly," I muttered as you met my eyes in the mirror. You turned me around so that I could see the clear blue of your eyes.

"You know," you said as you ran your nose up my jawline, placing little kisses, "wearing a nice dress won't hide the fact that Alia has two moms." I'm sure you felt the soft breath I released on your neck, before I pulled myself away and collapsed on the bed.

"I just don't want her to get hurt."

I watched as you looked at me with compassion and understanding. The world has certainly become more understanding since you and I were in high school, but we still wonder if we placed an unfair burden on our children. I kept my eyes locked with yours as you sat on your knees in front of me. I could feel the reassuring warmth of your hand on my knee, a pull grounding me.

"Our children have the best mother in the world," you reassured me.

"Britt," I interrupted, but you continued.

"No, San. You and I raised them to be strong, accepting and smart, and above all kind. Hayden and Alia are loved and cared for. Baby, they are the luckiest children in the world. Having two mothers hasn't hindered or burdened them, it has blessed them."

"I know," I murmured, running my hand through your hair. There is nothing I love more than to feel the soft fine strands of your hair through my fingers, much like Hayden's, or the course curls of Alia's mane. I leaned forward to softly kiss you, willing my love to transfer to you. I felt you moan into me as you raked your fingers from my knees to the top of my thighs.

"Come on," you said into my lips, patting my legs. "You look beautiful and Alia's probably already in the car." I laughed and followed you out of the bedroom, ready to face preschool.


	13. Chapter 13

**Just a short one, but I hope you enjoy! Always open to suggestions, requests, comments, questions, etc. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Santana (2021):

* * *

You have so many different types of kisses, Britt. And I love them all.

Sometimes they are soft and slow, until I feel like an ice cube, slowly melting into a puddle at your feet.

Sometimes they are kind and reassuring, the simple pressure of your soft, pale lips on mine, like a stone in my stomach, grounding me. Your lips just resting against mine, a silent: It'll be okay, Santana.

Sometimes when you place feather light kisses up the column of my neck, I can't breathe. I'm sure you can feel the gasp as it travels down my throat. I want you to travel further up, nip below my ear. I want you to travel south, nip at the skin around my waistband. I want you to kiss me forever. I want to feel the flutter of your hands at my hips, thighs, back, as you grasp for me and I grasp for you.

Sometimes when you tug at my bottom lip, playful and frisky, my stomach free falls. My fingers and toes tingle, and I want your tongue to duel with mine. I want the firm plane of your stomach to press against mine, and quiver. I want the hot breath of your gasps against my cheek as you whisper naughty things into my ear.

Sometimes you kiss me so hard, my bruised lips ache for you when you pull away.

Sometimes you kiss me so soft, I can't be sure our lips even touched, except for the rapid beats of my heart.

Sometimes you kiss me and I have to tell myself to breath.

Sometimes you kiss me and I have to grasp at your shoulders, or my knees will buckle.

Sometimes you tease and play, never giving me the touch I crave. You pull away just before I can touch your lips with mine, still parted and waiting for the taste of you.

Sometimes you make me drunk with sloppy, wet kisses, hot, greedy kisses.

Sometimes I don't care how you kiss me as long as you do it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Here, for you! Thanks for reading and supporting! As always, I welcome and love, all comments, questions, etc.**

* * *

My love for you has never wavered, Santana. But, like any people learning, and living, and growing, we have had our moments. Our moments of insecurity. Our moments of hesitancy and fear. Our moments of feeling lost, feeling stuck, feeling lonely.

I used to wonder, especially in college, surrounded by suntanned and made up girls, when the spell would be broken. That's what it was to me, a spell. It had to be some sort of fog, blending and blurring my edges, making me worthy of you. I had yet been able to finish a school assignment in one sitting; I bit at my nails, and never wanted to brush my hair. Was it possible you could look at me and feel attraction, warmth, love, comfort, happiness? All the things I found in you.

Remember when you took me to that party at the sorority you were thinking of joining? I could see everybody looking at you. The boys, the girls, drawn to your shining hair and beautiful smile. I used to swell with both pride and apprehension when I saw people stare, feelings tugging in me different directions until all I could do was cling to you, tug at your elbow, hook your fingers with mine. So much pride. She's mine, I would convey with my arm around your waist, squeezing your hip. But, also, buried deep, beneath your reassuring kisses, I wanted you to myself. I didn't want you to know that other people wanted you. Stay wrapped up in me, I would plead, with soft kisses at your throat, feeling the skin buckle under the weight of my lips.

You were making your way through the crowd, moving your hips slightly, to the bass of the music, as you chatted with girls. You were working the crowd, trying to ingratiate yourself with the other deltas. But, I was feeling insecure. And I wanted the sway of your hips to be met with the sway of mine. I wanted to feel you thrum to the beat, so I went over to you, tugging at your arm. "Dance with me, S," I implored, puckering my lips. You put your lips against mine, but turned back to the group to continue your discussion on something I'm sure I wouldn't understand.

You were simply having fun, meeting new people, enjoying college. But, I felt dismissed, embarrassed, left alone at a party that I didn't really want to attend. So, I left. It was a shitty thing to do, San. And, I am sorry. I should have told you, left you with a goodbye kiss, or even waited for you on the dingy, couch. Instead, I pretended to be asleep when you came home, listened to you check to make sure I was safe and tucked in, grab your pillow, and move to the couch.

Sleeping without you will always feel like a part of me is missing. That deep, unsettling feeling of knowing you are missing something important, something grounding, something a part of you. I tried to sleep, to leave the night behind me. But, I couldn't do it. I couldn't feel your steady breath against my collar bone; I couldn't feel your legs pressed against mine, your hand against my heart.

I found your sleeping form on the couch, just as breathtaking as always. I knelt on the floor, looking up at the beautiful lines of your face. I traced my fingers along your brow, your nose. I had to make sure you were still there, still tangible, still mine. I could sense you waking, and I was scared. I felt you looking at me, and I couldn't face you. I stared at the swirls and grains in the wood of the floor. "I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"You just left," you breathed out, voice trembling. "I didn't know what was wrong, if you were safe. You just left."

"I know," I mumbled, glancing a look at you. I reached for your hand, brushing the soft skin, stretched taught over knuckles. "It was unfair to you."

You squeezed my hand, willing me to continue, already granting me your forgiveness and I was so thankful for that, for you.

"I don't know what happened," I let out in a whisper, letting my chest fall onto you. "I've been feeling so insecure lately, and I don't know why, and it was too much." You pulled my hair back out of my face, lifting my chin, and placing a delicate kiss on the corner of my mouth.

"You are my forever, you know," you said with a clear and steadfast gaze. I nodded my head and reached to connect our lips.

"I know and I'm sorry," I said when I drew back, running my finger over your lip, and placing one more kiss, soft and pure, at your mouth.

"Come back to bed?" I asked, and pulled you from the couch.

"Only if you promise to never leave me again?" you said, already standing to your feet.

"I promise," I said, "You are my forever, you know?"

"Yeah," you let out, nodding your head, "forever."


	15. Chapter 15

**Here's a short one. But, let me know what you think! As always, I love comments and suggestions!**

* * *

Remember the first time we took our little water bug to the pool. She just jumped right in, Britt. Just like you, not afraid of anything. My little dare devils, in your cute, polka- dot bathing suits. Sometimes, she is so much like you, it takes my breath away. How'd I get the two most beautiful, most crazy girls in the whole world?

Just turning two, Alia, had only ever been in the bathtub. I tried to get her excited all week, cooing at her about floaties and waves. Remember? And when we finally got there, she looked confused and glanced up at me.

_Mama, just water,_ she said, trying to appease, as if she were breaking bad news to me.

_Fun water_, you said, touching her button nose and jumping in the pool. You looked so beautiful in the water, especially holding our baby girl. If only we knew then, how much time we would be spending at the pool. Even now, sandwiched between you and Hayden, watching Alia's swim meet, I can tell how much she loves the water. I know we're going to have to drag her out when the meet's over. _One more minute, Mama_, she always says as she dives back underwater, to break through the icy blue and reappear meters away.

I love watching you at these events. I almost missed Hayden's home-run the other day; I was so caught up in you. You always look so proud, as you should be. I want to squeeze your knee and reassure you. I want to say: _See there. Look at that. That's Brittany and Santana's. That's what their love did._ And it did, baby. Our love made the most handsome boy, who still kisses my cheek when he leaves the car for school. It made that little girl, so obsessed with animal facts that information sheets cover the floor of her room. It made that crazy hair, Alia always stomps around, complaining about and the blue eyes that drive all the girls wild about Hayden.

Sometimes when we get home, and our babies are in bed, I can still picture your face as you watch Hayden run the bases, or Alia dive into the water, the way your fingers clench and unclench in anticipation, and it makes the love burst up in me, and out, escaping into the air, in a giggle.

_What's so funny_, you say, as you hook your legs on either side of me, resting your nose against mine, smiling.

_My love for you_, I say, running my hands up your thighs, and around to the base of your back.

_It just won't stop growing_, I laugh, tickling up your spine. _Ah,_ I laugh, mocking injury. _It's suffocating me. It's just so big, _as my hand continues, and your body jerks with laughter.

_Stop it_, you say, swatting at my hands.

_Stop making me love you then_, I counter, still playing.

_Never. _


	16. Chapter 16

**Another one! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

I really enjoy watching you get ready for a date night or an event, Santana. I have to sit far away, on the bed, so that I don't reach out and pull you into to me. In the beginning, I used to pretend I wasn't staring. I'd turn my eyes away, my cheeks flushing, my fingers strumming against my stomach in embarrassment. Eventually, I couldn't take it and I didn't care, I wanted to unabashedly stare at you. Longer and longer, each time, art that just seems to get more beautiful.

One night, when we were first becoming real, before my aunt's wedding, while you were pulling on lace panties, your striking hips caught my eye, jutting out at the most delicious angles, begging to be kissed, outlining your soft and supple skin, curving and drawing my eyes downward.

You saw me looking at you, but I didn't know what you were thinking. Were you happy and blushing? Embarrassed and scared? Only recently had we started sharing our feelings, confessing our "_I love you"_s and our "_You're so beautiful_"s. Sometimes, I was still scared you were going to pull away or I was going to shut down. I pulled my eyes away from you, toeing the carpet of your bedroom.

_Britt?_ You said, a question, and I could hear the worry in your voice, and I hated it, causing you more worry in this worry-filled world. I must have mumbled or shrugged, not enough to assuage you, because you still eyed me and eventually crossed the room.

_Baby_, you cooed, your voice raspy, full of worry, and still so, so sexy.

_I'm just so happy to have you as my date_, I said, looking up into your eyes.

_Yeah_, you breathed, glowing, still unsure about my love, my commitment. But there is no other person I could possibly imagine loving. No other person who makes me smile and laugh as much as you. No other person who makes me feel safe and warm. No other person who frustrates me as much as you, Santana. No other person who gives me butterflies and lightening shocks when our skin touches. I wish you could feel my love for you, feel the way it makes a fire in my belly, and feel the way it makes tingles in my cheeks, like being a little tipsy.

_Yeah_, I confirmed, brushing my fingertips over your collarbone as you knelt in front of the bed I was sitting on.

_You'll be the most beautiful person there_, I said, reverently, letting my finger graze back across your neck and around your shoulders, feeling the warm skin, buckle and hum against mine. You sighed lovingly, and fell into me, letting me wrap you in a hug, my hands finding the small of your back.

_I might have some competition,_ you said.

_Aunty Hazel is looking pretty good lately_, I said.

_No_, you giggled, pushing me until I was lying flat on the bed, your warmth and weight nestling into me.

_You, silly_, you said. And you kissed me hard on the lips, and then the corner of the mouth, moving to the apple of my cheek with little butterfly kisses. I could have stayed like that forever, you and me and our kisses.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks to my wonderful new beta for helping with this chapter: ljolymbiou! Y'all should check out her amazing work!**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

I have learned so much from you, Santana. I have learned to be brave and courageous. From you, I have learned to be a good wife and a good mother. I have learned to be passionate and strong. I have learned from the best.

Remember when you taught me to use chopsticks? It was one of our first lazy, pajama, dates. You know the kind, where you pull your hair into a mess at the nape of your neck, and you don't bother with your makeup, the kind where you don't plan and analyze and worry, the kind when you're the most beautiful?

Remember? Your parents were away and we spent the whole day wrapped up on the couch watching horror movies, before we ordered Chinese for dinner, not even bothering with pants.

You wouldn't stop giggling, as you watched me fumbling at my lo-Mein.

_What?_ I said breathlessly, with a smile, as I put one chopstick in each hand, and used them to scoop at a sprout.

_That's not how you use them, baby, _you said, kissing me on the forehead, as you got up from the table. You came back with a fork and another kiss to the apple of my cheek, before sitting back in your chair. But, you were just too far away, so I scooted my chair close to yours.

_What are you doing, Britt?_ You giggled again, your voice reaching over the scrape of my chair.

_Teach me_, I said, as I picked up the chopsticks.

_Like this_, you said, picking up your own chopsticks with drastic motions.

_No, show me,_ I pleaded. And when I felt the warmth of your hand on mine, I suddenly wanted to be finished with dinner. But, I let you mold my fingers, your own softly stroking mine.

_Put your thumb here, _you said, with a soft, nervous giggle. I'm sure you could feel my skin grow warmer, just with your simple touch. You do that to me, you know?

_Like this?_ I said, purposefully mixing up the position you just showed me.

_Britt_, you said, admonishingly, your face growing flush.

_Maybe, you could feed me_, I teased, watching your cheeks grow pinker. You were still getting used to being the "real" Santana with me, and I loved seeing all the feelings you were finally willing to show me, the vulnerability and the want, even during the simplest of times, like dinner and chopsticks.

_Stop it_, you hushed, pushing the chopsticks into my hands with a soft smile. And with another smile: _You know if you want to hold my hand, you just have to take it. _


	18. Chapter 18

**A new one! Thanks, as always, for reading and all the kind words and reviews! Also, a big, big, thanks to ljolymbiou, for her amazing beta-skills!**

* * *

Santana's POV:

* * *

I've always loved this time of year. There is a collective happiness spread over everyone, an infectious excitement about what's to come. I've always loved your smile when you see the house decorations, and the way the colorful lights bounce of your eyes and the sheen of your hair. I've always loved coming home from work to find you dancing in the kitchen, the Christmas station on, the joy bubbling up out of you and into me.

It's been so exciting this year. Hayden's just turned two, every little thing exciting him into giggles and burst of energy. We are taking him to buy a Christmas tree today, and you've dressed him up in a little Santa hat. And now, I just can't stop placing little kisses across his fat cheeks and his smooth forehead.

_Leave the poor boy alone, _you cooed, with a pat to my butt, readjusting the hat on Hayden's small head, placing your own little kisses along his furrowed brows. The first week we brought him home, we couldn't stop placing little butterfly kisses along every inch of his miraculous, little body. He seemed so unreal. Could it be that we managed our biggest, our most cherished dream? He was so small, yet so strong. And ours, baby. All ours. I think we had to kiss him to make sure it was really real.

It took you awhile to find the perfect tree. _Too small_, _too big_, _too sad,_ you said, as you shifted through the rows. Hayden tried to keep up with you at first, darting through the trees after you, his red hat askew.

_Wait! Which one, mommy? _He asked, as you eyed a tree, his tone exasperated.

_The perfect one_, you said, as you bopped his nose and scooped him up. _Which one is perfect?_ You asked him, as he rested on your hip.

_All, _he said, shrugging, and wiggling out of your grip. You placed him on the ground, still surveying the trees.

_This one_, he said, tapping a tree with his hat. _This one_, he said, as he continued down the row. _This one._ _This one, _with each new tree.

You let out a big, carefree laugh, and I joined your side, as we watched our perfect boy toddle between all the perfect Christmas trees.

_Pick one, baby_, I said, wiggling my fingers to him, as he smiled at us between two tall trees.

When we finally made it back to the house, perfect tree in hand, Hayden was fast asleep. You placed him in the playpen, pulling the soft, blue blanket up over his rising and falling chest as I pulled the tree into the living room behind you.

_Out like a light, _you said, your hands on your hips, as you turned to me. You had a shy smile on your face, as you turned the radio on low, the soft sounds of Jingle Bell Rock filling the empty air of the living room.

_Let's decorate, _I said, grabbing at your hand, and pulling you towards the tree.

_After_, you soothed, your voice light, airy, pulling me in, as your hands did the same with my body. _ I want to dance. _

I let your hands and your body lead the way; bringing me through the rise and fall of the soft music, the way you have always brought me through the ups and downs. I nuzzled my nose into your neck, as you pulled me flush against you, your hips only swaying now.

_I can't wait to give you your gift, _you mumbled into my hair.

I leaned my head back and smiled at you. _Yeah? Give me a hint?_ I teased.

_Nope_, you giggled, pulling away from me and pulling out a box of ornaments.

_Please_, I pleaded, as I tickled at your sides, placing kisses at your jaw.

_Nope,_ you repeated, placing an ornament in my hand, and pushing me towards the tree. _Make sure it's even._

We let the soft chords of the Christmas station lull us into peace as we filled the evergreen with colored bulbs and silver strands of garland, as Hayden slept serenely beside us.


	19. Chapter 19

**A new chapter, and a little bit longer too! Thank you for reading and for all of the kind review. Also, a big thanks, as always for the amazing beta-skills of ljolymbiou!**

* * *

**Brittany's POV:**

* * *

You have been working on the packing list ever since I gave you the gift.

_What's this, baby?_ You said, Christmas morning, flipping the envelope around in your hand, as you pulled out the paperwork. You were on the floor, your flannel pajama pants bunched around your legs where they crossed, our baby boy on your lap. Hayden hadn't made it past his stocking, where he found a wooden train. He's spent the last hour, pulling the wooden pieces apart and putting them back together, running his new-found creation over your legs and through the obstacle course of thrown wrapping paper and evergreen needles.

_I thought, we could get away, as a family, you know_, I smiled at you.

_It's perfect_, you said looking at the image of the snowy log cabin, placing a kiss on Hayden's head. _Just perfect._

_Good_, I said with a smile, _because we leave tomorrow_. I was nervous that I hadn't given you enough time. You always need time to prepare; after all those years in high-school, I knew that more than anyone. But you just rested your chin lightly on top of the golden locks gracing Hayden's head, and smiled at me as you wrapped your arms tightly around him and rocked.

But now, you're freaking out, pacing our bedroom, a black pen hanging precariously from your mouth.

_Do you think we have enough diapers?_ You asked, ruffling through the bags spread out on our bed. Before I could even answer: _What if he wants more books? Should we pack more books? _

_We definitely need that train, _you mumbled into the pen, as you went into the bathroom, gathering as many toiletries as you could, your cinnamon eyes bouncing around the room, trying to see if you forgot anything.

I had to calm you down with hugs and gentle reassurances. _They'll be plenty for him to do, _I said, running my hands up and down your arms. _And there are always stores if we run out of anything, _I had to remind you, with soft pecks to the apple of your cheek.

_Yeah_, you said, leaning into me, your cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. Yeah, you said again into my shoulder.

Your big heart keeps getting snagged on all the little pieces, the packing lists and the plans. You want to take care of us, and I love that. So, so much. But, I hate to see you anxious, especially when we have everything we need, Santana. You. Me. Our baby boy. Our love. Our faith. More than enough diapers.

When we left the next morning, Hayden tucked safely in his car seat, his train and a book in hand, you were calmer, the anxiety of packing having worn off.

_Do you think there will be a hot tub?_ You asked, excitedly, squeezing my hand, where it rested with yours on the middle console.

_I hope so_, I said with a smile and a wink, running my thumb over the back of your hand. You gave me a big grin back, your excitement beaming out of your warm eyes and your shining hair.

We found snow shoes in the shed, when we were exploring that first night. You bounced on your toes as you pulled them off the hook. I could see your excitement, but I imagine you would have been excited with just about anything, you were in a sort of magic bubble, ever since leaving for the cabin. Sometimes, I think you're still so surprised at the life we created. You were always so worried that you'd never leave the small, stifling town you were raised in, that our adventures must feel so miraculous.

_C'mon_, you said as you bundled up Hayden, the puff of his winter jacket and snow pants creating a hiss, as he ran around the cabin.

_Whoosh,_ he said, with a big, gurgling grin, mimicking the sound as he ran toward me.

_C'mon, mommy,_ he said, exasperated at the injustice of waiting, pulling on my hand as he dragged me toward the door. _Mommy, snow shoes!_

I don't think he even knew what snow shoes were at the time, but your excitement was so contagious, Santana.

_Those not snow! _Hayden had said at first, pointing at the shoes in frustration.

_I know, _you explained to him, buckling his boots into the straps. _They help you walk on the snow. _

_So you don't fall in, _you said, stepping back. He wobbled at first, his fingers curling as his arms went up for balance. He wasn't sure what to do, so he took a step toward you, immediately falling onto his cushioned butt.

_Oh no_, you cooed, as he looked up at us, unsure whether to cry or laugh, his puffy cheeks red with cold.

_Mama_, he pouted at you, well aware that his big lips and wide eyes have more control over your heart than anything else. You let his fingers curl around yours as you pulled him to his feet to try again.

_Try again_, you said, letting him hold onto your hands as he took one step and then another before falling again on his butt.

_Mama, broken_! He said, grabbing at the shoes, and looking at you. He knows you'll take care of him.

We never left the yard that afternoon, but our little boy made me so proud. He has your perseverance, Santana. Each time his little body hit the ground, he got back up again. And you both looked so beautiful with your wind-blown hair, your noses frozen red, smiling up at me from the snow.

That night, Hayden was so tired from his escapades that he was in bed by six thirty, asleep before I could even kiss him goodnight. As I slowly closed the door, turning around, I saw you standing there with a sheepish smile, your hands behind your back.

_What?_ I said, giggling, reaching out for your hands.

_Is he asleep?_ You asked, squeezing my fingers. I nodded.

_I made you dinner_, you said, your guilty smile prompting more giggles from me.

_What?_ I said, feeling as if I had missed some joke, but loving your playfulness.

_You'll see,_ you said, turning around. I watched as you headed for the kitchen, discarding clothes as you went, leaving a trail to the kitchen.

_What are you doing?_ I laughed, as I raked my eyes over the beautiful expanse of your smooth skin.

_Dinner's outside tonight_, you giggled, picking up a plate and opening the sliding glass door that lead outside. I watched as you tip-toed through the snow, exhaling slowly at the chill, jumping quickly into the hot tub on the porch. You giggled at me again, as the steam rose in little eddies, curling the bottom of your long hair, a small sheen rising on your skin and brow.

You looked so radiant and happy, the water rising just below your shoulders, your smile big and bright and beautiful in the moonlight.

_Join me, baby_, you said, and I just couldn't resist. The pull of your happiness and your beauty drew me out of my clothes and across the icy deck.

I immediately folded into you and the warmth, my hand cutting through the slick water to find the planes of your stomach. You kissed me hard and deep, greedy for me in a way that warmed my stomach more than the hot water.

_I never thanked you_, you said into my lips, with a few more wet pecks, my lips wonderfully raw and exposed.

_Mmhm, for what? I_ asked, leaning forward, to recapture your lips, lost in the misty haze of your kisses. You raised your hands in a gesture that meant for the trip, but you said: _for being you_, as you reached for my hand, squeezing it and bringing it up into the cool night to place warm kisses on my knuckles.

I smiled at you, wide, and brought our hands up to your cheek, hoping to convey that your love was more than enough thanks.

You kissed me everywhere that night, your hand sliding up and over me, leaving goose bumps and shivers in your wake. I'm sure I was hotter than the water as you worked over me with the tips of your fingers, dipping into the crooks of my hips and the swells of my breasts.

_Britt_, you whispered into me as I touched you back, wanting to feel what my fingertips did to you.

We came together that night, you buried in my neck, placing kisses where you could, the sweat and heat of our bodies mixing with the steam and our hot breaths rising into the night air.

_I could spend every night like this,_ you sighed as you settled down, your palms running up and down my arms.

_I'm happy as long as I'm cuddling up with you_, I said, and closed my eyes in sated content as I felt you squeeze me in silent agreement.


	20. Chapter 20

**Another one! Thanks for reading and reviewing. This one in particular was a request, in addition to many kind words, from njhousefan. Many, many thanks to the best beta on here: ljolymbiou, who consistently makes my writing better. Enjoy!**

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**Brittany's POV:  
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I've had the ring in my pocket for two weeks now. I'm surprised you haven't noticed, I've had to keep touching it, to make sure it's still there, to make sure it's all real. But, I can't find the right moment, San. It has to be perfect, worthy of the love we have, the love you give me. The diamond, especially sparkling in the light, is just like you; hard-edged, open and vulnerable, and so, so very beautiful.

I wanted to pull it out the other morning, when you turned off all the alarms and let the sun wake us up. You looked so beautiful, radiant, your eyes softly closed, your smile from our date night before still evident in your sleep. The sun had warmed your bare shoulders; I could feel it as I placed reverent kisses there, pushing your tangled hair aside. I felt you shift closer to me, your arms reaching out for me. I reached across the side table, almost coming up with the ring. I would just slip it on your finger, watch you wake with the realization of the extra weight on your hand. Instead, I made you cinnamon buns and watched as you licked the extra icing off your fingers, smiling at me.

I wanted to ask you at the supermarket, the other day. We were waiting in line and you were smiling at the baby in front of us, cooing and waving your fingers, drawing out giggles and gurgles.

_She's so cute, _you said into my shoulder, as you wrapped your arm around my waist, your fingers squeezing at my side. You placed a kiss at my throat, and turned back to the little girl.

I hoped you were thinking what I was thinking: that our little girl would be cuter, with your tan skin and warm chocolate eyes, your unruly hair pulled up on top of the head of our smiling little ballerina. I almost dragged you out of the store, leaving the cart of fruits and vegetables behind, as thoughts of vows and glistening rings seemed to overwhelm.

When I can feel the warmth of your breath on my neck as we fall asleep at night, I'm almost bursting with the need to kiss you hard and just slip the ring on your finger. I want to know you will always be there, that we"ll always be there, wrapped up together, our love trapped between our clasped hands and our entangled legs.

When you took me dancing last night, I was positive the words were just going to fly right out, distorted and unrecognizable. You looked so sexy in your sleek dress, sliding against me, your skin moist from the heat that enveloped the dance floor. You kept sending me sly glances, throwing your curls over your shoulder, your body hot against mine, my lips greedy against your neck. You were so irresistible, San, I had to use all of my strength not to just take you, right there amidst the throngs of clubbers.

I don't know how I stop myself when you are silly and giggling, pattering around the house with your bare feet. _Can't catch me, Britt, _You always say, your tongue peeking out. Or when you stay up late with a book, your glasses on the tip of your nose.

But I'm so scared, Santana. How do I properly tell you that I don't ever want to live my life without you? How do I properly tell you that you are the biggest part of my life, even bigger than my beating heart and my working lungs? How do I tell you I'm scared, but so deeply happy, that I rely so much on you, and our love? But, how can I not?


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